Under the Showers
by sue-sylvester-shuffle
Summary: (Takes place between 2x14 and 2x15) To thank Mulder for trying to protect her from the devil worshippers, Scully offers to dry his hair for him. (SLIGHT SCULDER.)


As they walked down the front steps of Crowley High School, Mulder wrung out the end of one of his dripping sleeves and sighed. "You know what, Scully?" he said. "I always wondered if we'd end up showering together. I just didn't expect there to be three homicidal devil worshippers there too."

Scully smirked at him. "Very funny," she replied. "If you want to get dry, though, I did bring a blow dryer with me."

"Really? A blow dryer's not much use at a crime scene," he joked.

Scully laughed softly before continuing, "You know what I mean. It's at my motel room. Why don't you come back with me and I'll dry your hair for you?"

Even under the cool, night shadows, Scully could see Mulder blush. "If you want me back to your motel room so badly, why don't you just say it outright?" he asked, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He was only teasing her, of course. But that was how Scully knew he was _feeling_ something _._ She paused to give him her signature, no-nonsense look. Though her partner was quite a few inches taller than she was, that look always let her rise above him. He grinned. "All right," he said. "Thank you, Scully."

When they got back to the motel, the two agents went into their respective rooms to change out of their drenched clothes. Scully was just pulling a sweater over her nightgown when there was a knock at the door. "Scully, it's me," came Mulder's voice from the other side.

"It's unlocked."

The door opened, and in came her partner, wearing a baggy t-shirt and sweatpants. "I didn't dry my hair at all," he told her, grinning. "I hope your blow dryer is good."

Scully smiled, holding up the appliance in question. "It is. Come over here."

He sat down on the end of her bed. Scully plugged in the blow dryer and sat down behind him. She brushed through his hair with her fingers as she dried it, making sure that the air wasn't too hot. Mulder relaxed under her touch.

She could smell whatever product he used on his hair; apparently it hadn't all been washed out when the devil worshippers had turned the showers on them. _Devil worshippers._ Scully had to take a moment to laugh silently at how _normal_ something like that was to her now. A year or two ago, if someone had told her that she'd be chasing devil worshippers and aliens with a man who believed in the unbelievable just as much as he believed in his own foot, Scully would have called them crazy. Now _crazy_ was less of an adjective and more of a way of life for her. The only other person crazy enough to believe everything she'd gone through was Spooky Mulder himself.

"Thank you, Scully," said Mulder softly, rousing her from her thoughts.

"Oh, well, it's the least I can do," responded Scully. "I should be thanking you too, I suppose."

He looked up at her, drying hair sticking in every which way. "For what?" he asked.

"When those devil worshippers had us on the ground, under the showers," Scully began. "That woman was lowering the ritual knife toward us. And you rolled on top of me. To protect me." She smiled. "Thank you."

Mulder blinked. Slow, nonplussed, much like the way he talked. He really did have gorgeous eyes. "I didn't even realize I did that," he admitted finally.

"Really?" asked Scully.

Her partner nodded. "I guess it's just second nature for me to protect you now," he replied.

His words made something soft and fragile stir inside of Scully. She set down the blow dryer and smiled at him. "I know the feeling."

And she did. A thousand images flashed through her mind at once; hands propping up Mulder's head, brushing hair from his face, applying pressure to his wounds. He was an integral part of her that she had to wear outside of her body, and it didn't help that he had a tendency to run headfirst into danger.

Scully had been an FBI agent for years, but she had never met anyone quite like Fox Mulder. Most agents hardened after years of seeing death, crime, and tragedy, but Mulder never changed. He was witty, relaxed, and passionate. Those things didn't usually collide in one FBI agent. Somewhere along the way, they'd have to be sacrificed; for determination, for success, for peace of mind. Not Mulder. Never Mulder. He _was_ damaged- he'd lost his sister, for Pete's sake- but it only fueled him to work harder. He was quite the anomaly, and Scully adored him for it. She carried the strength of his beliefs with her, even now.

She edged over until she was sitting next to him. "I know you were protecting me before," she said quietly. "When… when I was in the coma. I heard you. I know you were there."

Mulder nodded. All of a sudden, his sleepy little smile was gone; his face was etched with pain and guilt. "I tried, Scully. But… I wasn't good enough. I couldn't _keep_ you here. I couldn't stop him… Duane Barry…" He paused for a moment to take a deep breath and compose himself, his voice choked with emotion. "…I couldn't stop him from taking you."

Scully's breath hitched in her throat. They'd been dancing around the topic ever since Duane Barry had abducted her, only referring to the aftermath and not the event itself. But when he said it, it felt real. It _was_ real. "Mulder…" she began, her voice small.

"No, Scully. You shouldn't be thanking me," Mulder hissed, shaking his head. "I couldn't protect you when you needed it most. I… I'm sorry."

Scully wrapped her arms around herself, heart pounding. She couldn't remember much from when she'd been abducted, but there was a constant undertone of terror whenever she tried to think about it, and the alienating sensation that there was a piece of the puzzle she wasn't aware of. "Mulder…" she managed, unable to say anything else.

Before she could say anything more, Mulder wrapped his arms around her. "I won't let you go again," he murmured. "I promise."

Scully took a deep breath and closed her eyes, inhaling Mulder's scent. It was hair product, trees, and warm night air. Somehow, when he held her, he was able to subdue whatever negative emotion she was feeling. Like in the fetishist's house; he'd found her on the floor, bound, broken, and terrified. At first, she had resisted his touch, refused to meet his gaze. Gently, he had placed his fingers under her chin, easing her head up so that she was looking at him. Seeing the raw concern and fear mingled in Mulder's expression had been all it took to make Scully break down. Tears had welled up in her eyes, a sob forming in her throat. She had leaned in toward him, resting her head on his shoulder, and Mulder had pulled her closer. One of his hands had found its way to the back of her head; the other wrapped itself tightly around her body, as she gasped and sobbed into his chest.

They had sat there on the floor long after the other agents took the fetishist away; long enough for Scully's tears to dry, long enough for her heart rate to return to normal, long enough for her to forget all that had just happened and focus on Mulder's warm breath against her hair instead. He had smelled like stress and sweat, but no scent had ever made her feel more safe.

Still lost in thought, the redheaded agent rested her head on Mulder's shoulder. He gave her a squeeze before pulling away, looking down at the ground. There was shame in his hazel eyes.

"Hey," began Scully. "What happened… it wasn't your fault. I know you did all you could to find me."

Mulder didn't say anything.

Scully studied him for a moment before picking up the blow dryer again. "Mulder, it's your turn," she said.

He didn't move, but his eyes travelled up to her face. "What?" he asked.

"I dried your hair, now you can dry mine," she responded, smiling.

To her relief, Mulder looked up, the crease between his eyebrows dissolving. Scully handed him the blow dryer, and he scooted over so that he was sitting behind her. She closed her eyes as he brushed his fingers clumsily through her hair. It was clear that Mulder did not have as much experience with a blow dryer than he did with a gun. "Ouch, Mulder. Too hot," she hissed, leaning away from the appliance.

"Oh, sorry." He moved it away from her head.

Scully closed her eyes as Mulder dried her hair. After a little while, he gave up on the blow dryer and went at it with a towel instead. This made her laugh; she turned around, snatched the towel from his hand, and attacked his hair with it. Mulder tried to take it back, ducking away from her. He was laughing as well. The sound made all of the fear she had felt before melt away.

Just then, she caught a glimpse of the clock on her bedside table. It was eleven-thirty. "Mulder, it's getting late," she began, pausing. Still horsing around, Mulder grabbed the towel and went for her hair again. " _Mulder,_ " Scully repeated, grabbing his wrist. Mulder stopped, his hair a wild mess.

"What?" he asked.

Scully nodded toward the clock. Her partner glanced over, and the playful grin on his face faded away. "Oh," he said finally, unable to mask the disappointment in his voice. "I, uh… I should probably head back to my room, then."

"I guess so."

He set down the towel and stood up. "Thanks again for drying my hair, Scully," he replied. Scully got the feeling that he wanted to stay, that he didn't want to be alone that night. She didn't blame him; Mulder was wrestling with things that were far too big for him to handle alone. For _anyone_ to handle alone. To be honest, she didn't want him to leave either. But it wasn't right. She didn't want to let what she had with Mulder get out of hand. They were partners, and she trusted him with her life. That was all she needed. Wasn't it?

"I'll see you in the morning," Scully called over as he headed toward the door. As his hand closed around the doorknob, she added affectionately, " _Partner._ "

This put the softest of smiles on Mulder's face. "Good night, Scully," he whispered, and then he was gone. Scully sighed, and lay back on her bed. The towel was still there; she held it up to her nose. Although she could smell her own fragrant shampoo on it, there were still traces of Mulder's hair product there as well. Flicking off the light on her bedside table, Scully climbed under the covers with the towel still in her hands. It was almost like having Mulder there with her. _Almost._

For the time being, that would have to be enough.

end


End file.
